


Tit For Tat

by Misty_Reeyus



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Hate Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13967925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: Teresa and Velvet have a heated encounter.





	Tit For Tat

**Author's Note:**

> oops

“You attacked Oscar.”

Teresa keeps her tone level as she marches right up to who she’s been waiting for: the most infamous delinquent on campus. Velvet Crowe has arrived just as expected—Teresa knew, from accessing surveillance records, that Velvet always walks through the old, now unused chemistry building as a shortcut on the way to that hoodlum hangout of hers. So it is here, in this empty hallway, with her target perfectly positioned before her, that Teresa can finally enact her plan.

Velvet simply pauses in her step and rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Should’ve guessed he would run crying to his sister.”

Teresa’s lips tighten. “So you don’t deny it?”

“Would it honestly convince you if I did?”

That’s probably as much of a confession that Teresa will get, so she crosses her arms and silently fumes. She disliked Velvet from the start, but when Oscar came home three nights ago sporting a black eye and several bruised ribs, it instantly became personal. Oscar, honorable and just and _good_ Oscar, had seen Velvet lurking suspiciously in the shopping center well past closing time and followed her into the back alley behind the bank, but was discovered and soundly beaten for his troubles.

So Teresa scowls and steps ever closer to Velvet, the motion pointed and aggressive. “You will _never_ lay a hand on him ever again.”

Velvet scoffs in her face. “Or what? You’ll tell on me?”

“No. That wouldn’t deter you in the least.”

As head of student government, Teresa is well aware that Velvet has already been investigated by the university multiple times, never to any real consequence. With only Oscar’s word against Velvet’s, attempting disciplinary action would be futile, and even if there was solid proof of her crimes, no punishment that the school could reasonably dole out would so much as faze her.

No, Teresa won’t tell on her. Instead, Teresa is going to take care of Velvet right here, right now, using the one language that Velvet best understands:

Violence.

Without warning, Teresa swiftly reels her hand back and thrusts forward, delivering a finger strike straight into Velvet’s solar plexus. It works just as hoped; Velvet instantly keels over with a pained choke, temporarily winded, and Teresa wastes not a moment as she snatches up Velvet’s wrist and drags her into the small restroom nearby. Once inside, Teresa shoves Velvet’s shoulders to send her sprawling backwards and onto the floor.

“We wouldn’t want anyone to interrupt us,” Teresa drawls, as she locks the door behind her. “It’s time you had a taste of your own medicine.”

“…Damn,” Velvet manages to choke out, her voice strained, her hands and knees against the ground. “Didn’t think you…had it in you.”

Teresa yanks up the skirt of her dress, retrieves the nightstick that she strapped to her thigh hours earlier, and extends the baton with a flourish of her wrist. “I will do whatever is necessary to protect Oscar.”

“Fine then,” Velvet snarls, pushing herself back on her feet. “Fucking try it, bitch.”

Despite the taunt, Velvet is visibly on the defensive, carefully eyeing Teresa’s weapon. They both know Teresa has the advantage, she went to great lengths to make sure she would have it, and it’s crucial that she maintain that advantage if she wants Velvet to truly understand the consequences of hurting her dear brother.

So Teresa wastes no time in rushing forward, viciously swiping the stick towards her legs. Velvet barely manages to avoid it with a powerful backwards jump, but her footing is unsteady when Teresa strikes again, a satisfying _thwack_ ringing out as she nails Velvet in the shoulder. Velvet gives a pained shout, music to Teresa’s ears, and a successful hit to her rib cage lets her hear it again.

Velvet throws her forearm up just in time to block a swing meant for her head, hissing defiantly through grit teeth. She bends low and dives forward, an attempt to slip past Teresa and towards the door, but this bathroom isn’t the most spacious and Teresa’s weapon gives her ample reach. The nightstick slams into Velvet’s chest, forcing her back again, and from there, it’s not long before Teresa gets Velvet literally up against the wall.

She’s a pretty sight like that—defenseless, trapped, her legs on the verge of buckling as she braces herself against the white tiles. Velvet’s body is already betraying her, and though her expression remains more obstinate than fearful, Teresa is confident she’ll beat that stubbornness out of her eventually. Sooner or later, Velvet will have to give in to Teresa’s demands.

Smirking, Teresa aims for the knees, hoping to knock Velvet down and drive her even further into the corner—but Velvet abruptly twists, and the rod hits both her palms instead, and somehow, she manages to grab hold.

Velvet _pulls_.

Teresa automatically tightens her grip on the baton, but when it doesn’t slip from her grasp, the force sends her whole body staggering forward. She doesn’t have time to regain her balance before Velvet counterattacks, harshly ramming the top of her skull up into Teresa’s chin. Pain strikes like lightning up her jaw, her hold loosens just enough for Velvet to knock the stick from her hand, and as the weapon clatters to the floor, Velvet fists her fingers into Teresa’s hair and yanks her head back _hard_.

Through rising panic, Teresa’s mind races for some way to salvage her plan, some way to break free and rearm herself and get back her advantage. But then Velvet’s knee is in her gut and she’s doubling over with a strangled wheeze and after that, Teresa stops trying to think. Pure instinct fuels her as she reaches up for the hand that’s tangled in her hair; she sharply pivots on one foot and her scalp screams as copious strands of blonde hair are ripped from their follicles. Teresa manages to snatch up Velvet’s wrist but Velvet catches her other wrist in turn, then forces both of Teresa’s hands behind her back whilst reeling her in by the waist.

Chest to chest, practically nose to nose, the two stare each other down. They’ve reached a deadlock, neither of them in any position to attack, because Velvet’s arms are occupied with keeping Teresa’s trapped and their legs are practically intertwined and their faces are too close for either to pull off an effective headbutt. But adrenaline still surges, anger still boils in Teresa’s veins, and as her every nerve flares with near-primal fury, Teresa does the only thing she can think of.

She smashes their mouths together.

It’s a desperate move—lowest common denominator, really—but it’s Teresa’s only chance of getting Velvet back under control so she takes it viciously. Her teeth capture Velvet’s bottom lip and bite hard enough to draw blood; Velvet gasps and her grip slackens just enough that Teresa can wrench her arms free. Her hands find Velvet’s shoulders and _shove_ , hoping to dislodge her opponent from her person entirely.

But the next second, Velvet’s arms are clamped in a vice grip around her neck and her mouth is retaliating, teeth grinding down on Teresa’s upper lip. Pain blooms bright as iron tangs freshly over her tongue, and once Velvet’s own tongue invades, the whole world hazes over. Despite herself, Teresa _melts_ , and Velvet spins her around, sends her stumbling backwards, until her rear hits something solid and Velvet’s arm lifts her up by the knees.

When Teresa finally regains enough sense of mind to try struggling again, Velvet breaks the liplock and seizes both her hands, thrusting them up over her head before pinning them against a cool, flat surface. Teresa realizes abruptly that she’s sitting atop the sink counter, her back nearly to the mirror, her shins trapped between the marble tabletop and Velvet’s knees. Even as Teresa makes a point of kicking her feet and bucking her hips in protest, she knows she can’t get away.

Velvet purses her injured lips, sending blood dribbling down her chin, and the shock of crimson red smeared over pale skin seems at the same time barbaric and beautiful. Brilliant amber eyes fiercely lock onto Teresa’s own, their gaze both heated and hungry, and something _jolts_ down Teresa’s spine before settling in the space between her legs. Teresa is suddenly hot and wet in ways that cannot wholly be explained by the sweat clinging to her skin, and as much as she hates her own body for betraying her, she can’t ignore the deafening song of _want_ that hums through every inch of her being.

Velvet Crowe may be an utterly terrible person, but she is also, for lack of a better term, _hot as hell_.

There’s no warning before Velvet goes for her neck, biting down on the point of her pulse whilst sucking hard, and Teresa throws her head back with a cry that borders on _vulgar_. Damn Velvet for finding that weak spot and damn her for abusing it, but whatever vestiges of self-control Teresa had left now officially shrivel up and die, as filthy moans spill unrestrained from her lips. So wound up is Teresa that when Velvet releases her wrists, she doesn’t even try to take the opportunity to resist or escape, and when one of Velvet’s hands slides searchingly beneath her skirt, Teresa instinctively _arches_ her hips to greet the touch.

Fingers pull aside the fabric of her panties to probe experimentally at her seam; Velvet detaches her mouth from Teresa’s neck and levels her with a smirk. “This wet already? The ice queen sure does melt fast.”

Teresa seethes, but doesn’t deign to respond to the mockery. Instead, she grasps Velvet by the ribs, seeks out the exact spot where the nightstick struck hard enough to bruise, and purposefully digs her knuckles into flesh through Velvet’s black tank top. Velvet twitches, hissing in pain, but is ultimately undeterred from slipping two fingers inside Teresa, untrimmed nails and all.

Velvet curls her fingers, scratching at her walls, and it hurts and it’s awful but it’s addicting and Teresa doesn’t want it to stop. Some small voice in the back of her mind tries to speak up, to remind her that she came here with a plan, but that plan went to tatters long ago and now, as Velvet briefly pulls out and thrusts roughly inside her, Teresa can’t give a damn about anything except that skilled, wicked hand. She _needs_ this, she’s been on pins and needles ever since Oscar got hurt, she’s pent up so much tension these last few days and now that she’s found an outlet, she bucks against it eagerly, _wantonly_.

“Look at you, just _begging_ for this,” Velvet drawls, tone infuriatingly smug. “God, what would your precious little brother think if he could see you now? If he knew what a dirty fucking _slut_ you really are.”

That Velvet dares to bring up Oscar right now has Teresa seeing red, and she’s had just about enough of letting Velvet run her mouth as she likes. Flinging an arm around Velvet’s neck, Teresa yanks her close, shutting her up with a hateful kiss of tongue and teeth, salt and blood. Velvet groans into her mouth and gropes Teresa’s breast with her free hand, harshly rolling her nipple through her bra; Teresa shoves her other hand beneath Velvet’s tank top and stabs nails into her back, purposefully scratching so that skin tears. Between Teresa’s legs, Velvet’s thumb slams down on her clit, and the rest of her fingers pump in and out her entrance, until finally, Teresa’s insides coil up like a spring and then _release_ , her whole body singing with satisfaction as she comes.

Gasping for breath, Teresa slumps backwards against the mirror, her muscles trembling, her eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion. Once the fog of her high begins to dissipate, though, reason comes creeping back, and humiliation instantly bubbles to the surface as the sheer gravity of what she just did fully sinks in. She failed in what she had set out to do, she let her enemy defile her in an unused public restroom of all places—and to add insult to injury, now Velvet pointedly digs fingernails into the fabric of Teresa’s underwear and _twists_.

Teresa’s eyes fly open in realization. “ _Don’t_!” she warns.

Velvet just looks her straight in the eye and _rips_ her panties off in one fell swoop.

Furious, Teresa slaps Velvet across the face, the smack of palm against cheek ringing out and echoing off the bathroom tiles. But several seconds pass, and all Velvet does is turn her head back towards Teresa, gently quirking a brow as she dangles the piece of torn, visibly slick cloth from her fingers like some sort of trophy.

Teresa hates it, but they both know that whatever the hell this was, Velvet just won.

“Tell you what,” Velvet mutters, taking a couple steps back from the counter. “You really wanna keep your brother from getting hurt? Get him to back off. He doesn’t follow me, I’ll be happy to leave you both alone.”

Teresa sucks on her lower lip, her expression sour. Honestly, she would do exactly that if she could, but once Oscar has made up his mind on something, not even she can dissuade him. “Oscar is a good person. He does the right thing. I can’t stop him from pursuing you in the name of justice.”

“Yeah?” Velvet says, crumpling her prize in hand before pocketing it within those ridiculous ripped shorts of hers. “Well, you’re gonna have to.” Having apparently said her piece, she turns her back dismissively and makes for the door.

“If you _dare_ tell anyone this happened,” Teresa calls after her, more desperately than she’d like to admit, “I swear, I will make you regret it.”

“Oh please. Like anyone would believe me if I said that prim and proper Teresa Linares assaulted me with a weapon before letting me fuck her against a sink.”

…Crudely phrased, but a valid point.

Then Velvet is gone, the sound of her footsteps retreating down the hall, and Teresa, all alone in an empty bathroom, lets out a shuddering exhale. Lowering her feet to the floor, she turns to view herself in the mirror, then smooths down her rumpled hair as best she can and wipes her swollen, bloodied lip with the back of her hand. Once she’s made herself as presentable as she’s going to get, Teresa retrieves her baton from the floor, exits the restroom, and, ignoring the way her naked crotch still tingles beneath her skirt, begins the walk to her and Oscar’s off-campus apartment.

Oscar will be home soon. She’ll have to fix him some dinner.


End file.
